


Somewhere in Between

by jibberjabber13



Category: Original Work
Genre: Afterlife, Existential Angst, Friendship, Gen, God is a stereotypical dad, Grief/Mourning, Humor, Immortals, Light Angst, Past Relationship(s), Road Trips, everyone in this story is ridiculous but it's okay, missing pet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-21 16:41:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18706240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jibberjabber13/pseuds/jibberjabber13
Summary: Three ancient immortals working for the Afterlife as liaisons to Earth are tasked with finding God's lost puppy, who seems to have gone missing somewhere in the continental United States.





	Somewhere in Between

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miyeokguk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miyeokguk/gifts).



Bados Emyrsus Casrus—Bec for short—had just about had enough of tenth graders. 

That Wednesday, Bec had been in the middle of delivering his finest lecture to date. He’d spent hours scouring the Internet for the perfect map of the 13th century world to show his students, which he then blew up and projected to the class. Little footprints represented the path the Western European crusaders took in 1202 to try and reclaim Muslim-controlled Jerusalem, while each of the armies were color coded. He was just beginning to describe the crusaders’ uniforms in detail when the third ball of paper chucked at him that day bounced off the left lens of his glasses and dropped to the floor.

“Okay,” he said, stopping the lecture. “Who threw that?”

No one spoke, but there were a few giggles, and Bec could hear the snap of someone’s gum in the quiet. Three rows back, another student was asleep with his head face down on the desk and his spiky hair pointing towards the chalkboard. Other students had phones hidden under their desks and were typing messages to their friends. 

The sun shone through the glass windows to the side of Bec so that it pointed directly at his cheek, and he started to feel hot and itchy and annoyed under the sudden heat.

“I said, _who threw that?_ ”

Now it was completely silent. Bec bent down and picked up the offending piece of paper. When he unfolded it, there were creases all over the words. He smoothed it out on the desk in front of him. Written in sloppy handwriting were the words: “Mary thinks ur hot, Mr. Bec.”

Bec turned a bright shade of red, unable to successfully hide his embarrassment. He wasn’t so naive anymore—he knew that his human form was considered attractive for a mortal. At his old school, he’d been called a “hot professor type” by one of the secretaries. Still, he felt uncomfortable receiving such attention, especially from a student.

Over the top of his glasses, he could see Mary sliding down her seat with her arms across her chest. She was a rather plain looking girl, with the sort of face that made her appear as if she was constantly smelling something that was just a little bit off. Bec immediately felt bad for making this observation and crumpled the note to stuff it in his pocket.

Bec cleared his throat and tried to project his voice, just like they’d taught him when he went to get his teaching certificate at the turn of the new decade (every ten years or so, the Big Man made them switch careers to avoid suspicion.) “If I see another note again today, one of you is going to the principal’s office,” he said. “Understand?”

The room full of students all bobbed their heads yes, so Bec continued with his lesson as planned. After all, he was just getting to the good part. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, picturing the rush of soldiers outside Constantinople. Bec hadn’t believed they were actually going to try for a Fourth Crusade until he’d seen it with his own eyes—of course, it ended up being a disaster anyway.

As he launched into a thorough account of the sack of Constantinople, he noticed a hand in the back. It belonged to a student named Harvey Hattermunch, which was really just an unfortunate name all around. Harvey was the kind of kid who made a sport out of trying to trip up the teacher, so it was with great reluctance that Bec sighed, pointed to him, and said, “Yes, Harvey?”

“Mr. Bec, how can you describe everything in such detail?” Harvey said in that snide way of his. “I mean, it’s not like you were there, and Ancient Greece was around like, forever ago.”

“This was the Byzantine Empire, Mr. Hattermunch,” Bec said through clenched teeth. “And you’re wrong, I lived through—”

Bec stopped and felt his muscles tense when he realized what he had done.

“—I…I’ve seen a lot of documentaries that tried to really capture the feeling of living through the crusades, is what I meant.”

The students stared at him with blank eyes. Bec breathed a sigh of relief. He’d almost blown his cover, but it didn’t appear that anyone in the room was observant enough to have picked up on it. The bell rang to dismiss the students, saving Bec from having to continue his lecture, and they filed out of the room like sheep in a herd.

After the students left, the classroom was empty save for Bec. In the quiet, the pristine room took on a more eerie quality, its polished, squeaky-clean floors and perfectly lined up desks too neat. Bec had to admit, though, that teaching at a private charter school was much nicer than some of the inner city schools he’d taught at previously.

As Bec sank into the leather chair behind his desk, he raised two fingers to his temple and started to rub at the throbbing vein there. Just as he was starting to get comfortable, the sharp sound of the phone ringing interrupted his peaceful silence, and he swore under his breath as he picked up the receiver.

“Hello?” he said, trying not to seem too annoyed.

“BEC? IS THAT YOU?” The Big Man’s deep, booming voice shot through the phone like a bullet straight to Bec’s left eardrum.

Bec winced and yanked the phone away from his ear. “Yes, yes, it’s me,” he said. “We’ve been over this, Your Lightness. You don’t have to speak so loudly over the phone.”

The Big Man coughed and resumed speaking at a more tolerable volume. “Right then. Sorry about that.”

“What do you need, sir?”

“I need you to come to the Upstairs as soon as you can. I have an urgent task that needs immediate attention,” the Big Man said. He paused. “And bring Fitzi and Gerald with you.”

Bec barely had time to open his mouth before hearing a click followed by the phone’s dial tone. He put the receiver back and frowned.

It looked like he would need to find a substitute for the next few days.

* * *

Gerald worked a desk job on the nineteenth floor of a twenty-story office building in Downtown Boston. He spent most of his day filing papers, shredding papers, and documenting papers—it was just a lot of paperwork, mostly. Bec didn’t know what exactly the paperwork was about though, nor did he know what the company even did; these were things that Gerald couldn’t even tell him, which was not surprising, given his character.

It took Bec twenty minutes by bus to get to the office building and another ten to get up to the nineteenth floor. He found Gerald asleep at his desk. Glancing around the cubicle, Bec spotted an unopened newspaper, which he picked up and rolled into a tube. He brought the paper tube down on the desk with a loud smack.

Gerald jumped, lifted his head up, and rolled back in his chair. He blinked a few times before recognizing Bec. “What the hell, man?!” he said. “What are you even doing here?”

Bec sighed. He’d known Gerald since their youth, since before the Big Man sent them down to Earth to work as liaisons for the Afterlife. Somehow, their friendship managed to survive millennia worth of Bec wanting to strangle Gerald. 

“The Big Man,” Bec said and crossed his arms over his chest. “He says it’s urgent.”

Gerald groaned as he rubbed a hand across his forehead. Upon closer inspection, Bec could see circles under Gerald’s dark eyes, which were bloodshot. “Can the Big Man possibly wait until I’m less hungover?” Gerald looked up at Bec with a pleading look on his face.

“Seriously, Gerald?” Bec said. “I thought you would’ve gotten tired of partying somewhere around your third century of binge drinking.”

Gerald shrugged, but it was a slow, sluggish movement. “What can I say?” he said, tugging at his tie, which was already loose and uneven. “I’m a masochist. I like indulging in shitty human behaviors.”

The sound of a coffeemaker whirring to life came from the break room next to Gerald’s desk, and Bec had stop to him from jumping up to get coffee. 

“Oh no, you don’t,” Bec said and yanked Gerald up by the arm. “We have to go. Now.”

“Alright, alright,” Gerald obliged, pulling his arm out of Bec’s grasp. “I’ll let my boss know it’s an emergency.”

“Oh sure, now you care about making a good impression on your boss when you were just sleeping on the job less than five minutes ago,” Bec muttered.

Gerald returned from his boss’s office to find Bec flipping through the newspaper he’d taken from the desk. “Hey, Gerald,” he said. “Isn’t it a shame about those recounted votes in Florida?”

Gerald furrowed his brow. Bec knew it was his way of trying to look as though he was thinking very hard about the answer when he actually had no idea what was going on. “I’m sorry, the what?”

“Don’t you keep this newspaper on your desk?”

“Yeah, but I don’t _read_ it,” Gerald said. “You know I don’t care about those types of things.”

Bec dragged him towards the elevators and waited until the doors were closed before holding the newspaper up to Gerald’s face. “I know you don’t normally pay attention to anything important or relevant to human society, but you’ve got to be more careful,” Bec said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “This is a newspaper from the year 2000. That was almost twenty years ago. You could’ve blown your cover.”

Gerald took the newspaper from Bec’s hands and held it for a moment. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said, glancing up at Bec. He paused and cleared his throat. “So where are we going, then? To the Upstairs?”

The elevator doors dinged and released them into the office lobby.

“No,” Bec said. “We’re going to get Fitzi first.”

* * *

When Bec and Gerald walked into Fitzi’s apartment, they were unsurprised to find it in the same type of disarray that marked her general personality and demeanor. Scattered around the living room carpet were stacks of books on miscellaneous topics, with titles ranging from Underwater Basket Weaving to Cooking Vietnamese Food to Mastering the Harpsichord in Less than Ten Days (coincidentally, Fitzi did not actually own a harpsichord). Strewn around the kitchen were utensils of varying sizes and shapes—Fitzi had an affinity for purchasing antique silverware and china—and trails of clothes littered the hallway to her bedroom.

Fitzi sat hunched over a laptop monitor on her old leather couch with a cup of loose leaf tea in in her hand. She typed furiously with her free hand and would pause every once in a while to raise the mug to her lips. Her ginger hair was hastily put up in a bun that was loosening by the minute, wild curls falling out of the elastic to cover parts of her face.

“Does she even know we’re here or…” Gerald trailed off and glanced at Bec.

Bec coughed. “Fitzi,” he said. She still didn’t look up from her computer. “FITZI.”

She jumped, causing some of the liquid to spill over the sides of her mug, and looked up in surprise. “When did you guys get here?” she said.

“Not too long ago,” Gerald said as he leaned against the doorframe separating her living room from the kitchen. “Bec said we have to...have to…”

Gerald stopped talking when he realized Fitzi was no longer paying attention to him. Instead, she had gone back to furiously typing on her computer like a madwoman. Suddenly impatient, Bec walked over and peered at her laptop screen.

“Who are these people?” Bec said, squinting at the rows of text on the screen. There were people with different icons sending messages to one another at a rate he found difficult to comprehend. “Do you know them?”

Fitzi’s eyes lit up, and she gesticulated wildly as she spoke. “These are my new friends! I joined this thing called a Dis-cord. It’s kind of like a chat room with all these different channels.” 

She nodded towards the screen, where she was now clicking on different ‘channels’ in the ‘Discord.’ Bec felt a bit like his head was swimming; he was never quite able to keep up with the rapid changes in mortal technology. The Big Man had practically forced him to acquire a smartphone to keep his cover intact.

“And what do you do in this…Discord?” Gerald asked with a raised eyebrow. He very much preferred interacting with mortals in person, preferably at some night club or bar or afterparty.

“Some of us like to play video games together. We also talk about our days and whatever else is going on in our lives,” Fitzi said warmly. She clicked on one user’s profile, which had an orange cat as a profile picture. “This is my friend Latoya. She lives in England. We come from all over the world, too.”

“That’s…very neat, Fitzi,” Bec said in an attempt to be supportive. He knew how easily Fitzi could get upset if she sensed disapproval.

“Isn’t it just so incredible how much technology has changed on Earth since the 90s?” she said. “I mean, just thinking about dial-up now makes me want to cry.” She laughed, a light and airy sound.

“I’m really happy for you,” Bec said. Then he took a deep breath. “But we need you to come with us.”

Fitzi looked up from her laptop. Creases popped up on her forehead as her brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s the Big Man.” Bec pointed up. “He needs us.”

* * *

Bec always forgot how bright the Upstairs was compared to Earth in the daylight. In the Upstairs, a permanent, glowing light illuminated everything in sight, and the sky was always a perfect shade of blue with the right balance of clouds. He had to shield his eyes by placing a hand over his forehead until he could duck into the main lobby of the Upstairs.

The Big Man’s soft-spoken secretary, Alfred, informed the trio upon arrival that He had been pretty dejected all day and unwilling to speak with anyone.

“Our Lightness has just been in the most depressed mood as of late,” he remarked. He’d adopted a posh accent from a brief, two centuries’ trip he took to London. “And he simply won’t tell anyone what is going on.”

“I guess that’s why we’re here,” Bec said.

Alfred nodded, then reached into a drawer behind the front desk where he worked. From the drawer he pulled out a large, golden key that shone with the light of a thousand suns, temporarily blinding the three immortals. Alfred turned to the large gates behind him and stuck the key inside, turning until it opened with the singing of an angelic choir to reveal the Big Man’s throne.

Atop a cloud of the softest variety was a throne made of the plushest red velvet known to both man and immortal. From there, the Big Man could look down on everything happening on Earth and in the Afterlife and make sure it was all going to plan. While he wasn’t exactly able to directly intervene in the affairs of mortals, he could send down people like Fitzi, Gerald, and Bec to Earth in order to enact his divine will.

The day He summoned the three immortals though, it was immediately obvious that He was not interested in dealing with petty mortal problems. His booming voice came down from where he towered over Bec, Fitzi, and Gerald to tell them why they had been called in:

“It’s Gabriel,” He said. “I’m afraid she’s gone missing.”

Bec arched an eyebrow. This had not been what he was expecting—and judging by the confused and taken aback looks mirrored on Fitzi and Gerald’s faces, was not what they had either.

“Gabriel?” Bec asked cautiously. 

The Big Man nodded, a heavy gesture given the size of his stature. Although His true nature was that of a ball of radiant light, not unlike a star, He often preferred to take the form of a middle-aged, tan-skinned dad with salt and pepper colored hair. “She did not show up to my throne this morning for her daily cuddles and treats. I had Alfred contact everyone in the Afterlife, but no one has seen her. I suspect that she must be somewhere on Earth, which is why I need your help,” He said and let out a deep sigh. It rumbled through the air.

Gabriel was the Big Man’s best friend—and also happened to be a small, white, fluffy puppy who was particularly fond of milk bones and playing fetch in the park just inside the Pearly Gates of the Upstairs residential areas. 

Bec frowned. “Forgive me, sir, but…how exactly would your dog have ended up on Earth?”

The Big Man curled one of his hands into a fist, which was about the size of a boulder. “She must’ve taken one of those blasted comets again,” he sighed. “She gets lost damn near every time that Haley’s comet comes into Earth’s orbit.”

“And you want us to go find her?”

“Yes,” the Big Man said. “From my understanding, she is quite fond of the Grand Canyon. Alfred said she wagged her tail a lot the last visit they took to Earth, and it took him hours to drag her away from its magnificent sights.”

Gerald looked at the other two, then shrugged. “Okay,” he said. “So let’s go to the Grand Canyon then and find her. This will be easy.” He looked back up at the Big Man. “You can count on us, Your Lightness!”

The Big Man blinked a couple of times. “Well, given that I am your God and supreme ruler, I did not assume you had a choice in the matter,” He said, “but I appreciate your enthusiasm. It has been noted.”

“Thank you, sir.” Gerald bowed with a goofy grin on his face. For all his slacking ways, Bec thought, Gerald sure was good at sucking up when it counted.

With that, the Big Man sent them on their way back to Earth to find his missing dog. On their way out, they each grabbed a chocolate chip cookie from the batch the angels had just made; they always baked the most delicious desserts.

“Why the long face, Bec?” Fitzi said through a mouthful of cookie. “You look stressed out. Don’t be so negative! This is going to be simple, I’m sure.”

Bec just sighed and shoved his hands into the pockets of the suit he’d worn to work that morning. He wished that the Big Man had given him Fitzi’s persistent sense of optimism when He had created all of his immortal servants. It sure would make his life a lot easier.

* * *

Bec’s old, rundown car sputtered down the highway at just above forty-five miles per hour, putting them firmly within the “honks and middle fingers as the other cars pass by” speed limit. Currently, they were about to pass over the border into Ohio.

Bec remembered a time when he had more patience, but as his years on Earth had gone by, it had slowly dwindled until it was just a thin shred. Currently, that shred was being tested by Gerald’s insistence on dominating what he called the “aux cord” and using it to blast EDM music at an ear-shattering volume. On top of that, Fitzi spent most of her time in the passenger seat typing on her phone rather than paying attention to the navigation, causing Bec to have already missed several crucial turns on their road trip.

However, Bec had to admit that it was good to see Fitzi so happy. Every now and again, she would smile and laugh at something she read on her phone, and she enjoyed telling Bec and Gerald all about her new online friends. He remembered when she used to try and pretend the teasing of their fellow immortals didn’t bother her when they were in their early years, training to go to Earth. It was endearing to see her bond so well with people after everything she’d been through.

Bec, on the other hand, hadn’t allowed himself the pleasure of genuinely getting to know a human being. Not for a long time. It pained him too much to even think about—

From the cupholder in between the front seats, his phone dinged with an incoming message. 

Bec rolled his eyes towards the car’s ceiling. It had to be the Big Man; every few hours, He would message with some inane question or comment. At first, He’d simply been asking how the mission was going and if they’d reached the Grand Canyon yet. Then He started to get lonely from missing Gabriel, and the messages became more trivial.

“Hey, Fitzi. Can you get that?” Bec said. “I don’t want to take my hands off the wheel.”

“Dude, who cares?” Gerald piped up from the backseat. He leaned forward so his head came between the seats. “It’s not like we can die. I text and drive all the time.”

“And that’s why you’re a piece of shit,” Bec fired back. “Also, humans can still die, and we could go to jail.”

“Man, one of these days you’re gonna have to remove that stick from your ass, Bec,” he said with a laugh. “You know, you never used to be this grumpy. What happened?”

Fitzi finally looked up from her phone to whip her head around and glare at Gerald. “Come on, you know why. It’s because of Janelle—”

Bec tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, and that was the end of the conversation as far as he was concerned.

Gerald shrugged and reached for Bec’s phone and read the messages from the Big Man out loud. They’d been sent to a group chat with all of them in it.

 **10:30am  
TheBigManUpstairs:** Fitzi taught me how to use Instagram, and I must say that I find this mortal diversion quite entertaining. There are so many different filters to use on photos! How neat!

 **10:35am  
TheBigManUpstairs:** Update: I now have ten followers. Is that good???

 **10:40am  
TheBigManUpstairs:** This human in my comments section says it is very funny how I parody a god. I AM God.

This last message, according to Gerald, was followed by a string of angry, red-faced emojis.

 **10:41am  
TheBigManUpstairs:** …please follow me. I crave more likes on my photos.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s like, super critical to our mission or anything,” Gerald said and placed the phone back in the cupholder.

“You don’t think?” Bec said sarcastically as he swung the wheel around to pull into a gas station. He needed a refuel, and Fitzi and Gerald undoubtedly needed snacks. He glanced at his watch and decided he would give them a half hour to roam around as they pleased. Maybe he would even pick up a slushee and a candy bar for himself.

* * *

One of the things Bec enjoyed most about Earth was the subtle beauty of its environment. The Upstairs was pristine and perfect—taken together, it was the purest form of beauty. But Earth…Earth was different. There was a ruggedness about its nature that made it that much more interesting. As he drove down the highway one night, passing somewhere through Kentucky, he turned his eyes briefly up towards the sky. There, in the darkness, little stars cast everything around them in a small glow. These were the moments that made him remember that sometimes it wasn’t so bad being stuck on the mortal plane.

Beside him, Fitzi snored lightly. She’d passed out just as the sun had started to go down. Technically, immortals didn’t really need sleep, but she preferred to indulge herself in certain mortal rituals to make her experience more authentic. Also, she claimed car rides were relaxing for her.

Gerald leaned forward to talk quietly to Bec. “Hey man,” he said. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure,” Bec said, feeling somewhat nervous at what Gerald could have to say; his tone was unusually serious. “What’s on your mind?”

“Do you ever just get tired,” he said, “of living here. On Earth. I just…I don’t know.” Gerald trailed off for a moment and ran a hand over his jaw. “Like, I do the same thing every day. I go to work. I go out at night. I party and drink. It just seems so…empty. Humans just follow this routine everyday and never even question it.”

Bec blinked a few times. He hadn’t expected Gerald to be so candid or open with him. He’d always been the easygoing slacker of the group, not letting anything bother him or get under his skin. Back when Gerald lost his first job, it didn’t even seem like Gerald really cared that much. In retrospect, though, Bec remembered how hesitant Gerald was to go to interviews or put himself out there, claiming he wasn’t smart enough to land anything. It wasn’t until Bec pushed him that he managed to find another job.

“I feel that way sometimes.” Bec’s voice came out smaller than he intended. “And sometimes when you try to make sense of it all, it gets taken away from you.” 

In the silence that followed, he tried to ease his grip on the steering wheel, which had become so tight his knuckles were drained of color. 

Bec had let himself feel something for a human long ago, when he’d met Janelle. The decade before he became a history teacher, he worked as a historian for an art museum in New York City. Janelle was one of the tour guides and instantly stood out to him, with her penchant for colorful pantsuits and a full head of tight spirals reaching up to the ceiling. He had never forgotten the first time they made eye contact behind pairs of glasses, and the way her mouth grew into this beautiful, spreading smile. Like she was the happiest she’d ever been—that was how she always smiled. 

He wanted, more than anything, to see that smile again.

Blinking away tears, Bec refocused his efforts on driving. 

It was at that moment that Fitzi decided to speak. Bec started, not realizing that she had been awake for some time, listening to their conversation.

“I think it’s interesting, how much of a blank slate everything is here. You can decide what you want your experience to be, what meaning you’ll create,” she said. “In the Afterlife, you either go Up or you go Down. But Earth isn’t so binary. It’s just kind of…somewhere in between, and I like that.”

“I’ve never thought about it that way,” Bec said softly.

And he meant it.

As the night wore on, the road kept going—and so did the three immortals, all deep in thought as they traveled down the highway in that little old car.

* * *

There was exactly one variable of this road trip that Bec had forgotten to account for during his planning of their road trip: human error. In the Afterlife, everything was always stitched up and perfect before a mistake could be fully realized. If you got a cut, no blood was drawn and it instantly healed. If you got lost in the many pristine neighborhoods of the Upstairs, an angel would be there to guide your way. And if, hypothetically, a car were to start breaking down in the middle of a road, it would be instantaneously fixed.

On Earth, though, this was not the case, and Bec’s car had begun to make sputtering noises that sounded like shrapnel and gunfire hitting the roof. The sounds started off as small noises, which concerned Bec briefly, but his car was so old and used that it often made strange noises anyway. It wasn’t until the car began to slow down and the sounds got louder that he seriously paid attention. 

“Holy shit, it sounds like fucking D-day in here!” Gerald shouted.

Bec paused from where he was fiddling desperately with the car controls to stare at Gerald.

“You know, like in World War I?”

“That was in World War II, Gerald,” Bec said with an exasperated sigh and turned back to trying to keep his car moving forward. Despite his best efforts, it had slowed to a crawl. He turned the wheel to the side, hoping to make it to the shoulder of the road so they wouldn’t get hit if the car stopped for good.

“We fought _two_ of them?!”

The car inched its way to the side of the road before finally, with one pathetic fart of exhaust fumes, coming to a halt. 

For a few minutes, no one said anything as cars continued to whiz by them. Then Bec, overwhelmed by his own anger and frustration and carelessness, began to pound on the steering wheel with his fists.

“DAMMIT,” he swore. “It can’t end here. It can’t end like this. It can’t—”

Gerald and Fitzi exchanged worried looks as Bec hopped out the car door and started to kick the front tires again and again. “Stupid. Piece. of. Human. SHIT.” He pulled back and jammed a finger towards the sky. “This is all YOUR fault for losing your damn dog.” 

There were a couple seconds of silence before Bec’s phone dinged with a new message.

 **5:40pm  
TheBigManUpstairs:** I resent that

Bec reeled his arm back as if to throw his phone like a football, but Gerald yanked his hand down. “Dude, don’t do that,” he said. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Fitzi placed a gentle hand on Bec’s shoulder. “Just take a few deep breaths, Bec,” she said quietly.

Bec blew some air out of his nose, then closed his eyes and filled his lungs with as big of a breath he could take. His shoulders sagged as he breathed out. When he reopened his eyes, Fitzi was directly across from him, searching his face. Gerald stood right behind her and peered over her shoulder. In a sudden wind, the top part of his undercut whipped a little to the side, and Bec found himself oddly transfixed by it. Human bodies were so strange. What were they even doing on Earth anymore, really? What was the point?

He began to laugh. Hysterically. 

“What the fuck?” Gerald threw his hands up into the air. “I give up.”

“What’s going on?” Fitzi said.

“The car. The stupid car broke down, and now we can’t even—” Bec could barely get the words out between giggles. He stopped to wipe away the tears that were now streaming down his face.

“No,” Fitzi said, still calm and relaxed. “What’s actually going on?”

Bec’s laughter trickled off into nothing as his grin faded. “I don’t want to…I…” He started to feel choked up. “I miss her. A lot.”

“Oh, Bec.” Fitzi flung her arms around him and gave him a tight hug. “We know.”

Bec should have just been content to accept her hug, but as soon as she pulled away, he was unable to stop himself from rambling on. It was like he was tumbling down some unseen hill, desperate to release the feelings he’d been holding inside for several years.

“It’s just not fair, you know? We come to Earth, and we’re expected to live like mortals do, but how can we really do that if we know that we’re different? If we know that they’re going to die, and we never will and we have to keep going and going, on and on.” Bec made a circular motion with his finger. His hands were shaking at this point. “I don’t know why it had to be her. The one person I loved had to suffer in that hospital for so long until she…until she…” He drew in an uneven breath.

“Yeah.” Gerald patted him on the back. 

“I’m sorry,” Bec said as he tried to pull himself together. “I know I haven’t been the most patient with you guys. It’s not fair. You’ve…you’ve always been there for me.”

Bec didn’t have to say it; they knew he was trying to thank them for being there during Janelle’s last days, when he would go to the hospital and hold her frail hands and have to accept that she couldn’t live on forever with him. There was no happily ever after.

But there was Fitzi and Gerald, who used to come meet him after those hospital days, and the three of them would walk around Downtown Boston. On especially nice days, they would even let him take them to all the historic sites and give in depth lectures on their significance. He was always grateful for those times because it made it seem like a little bit of sunlight was peeking through the darkness he was experiencing.

“And you’ve always been there for us,” Gerald said. “That’s what we do. We’re a team.”

“Right,” Bec said with a nod. “A team.”

“A team,” Fitzi echoed as she smiled at the two of them.

Bec’s heart, though still grieving, felt a small part lighter.

“I know we technically don’t get tired or anything, but…I’m exhausted now,” Gerald said with a small laugh.

Bec’s phone dinged again.

 **6:00pm  
TheBigManUpstairs:** Hi Exhausted, I’m God.

Bec just shook his head and allowed himself a smile.

Right as Bec was about to suggest that they call for a tow, a gray, rumbling truck slowed down next to them. Then the truck’s window rolled down with a loud whir. Out popped the head of an older man with a face full of wrinkles and a head and beard full of blindingly white hair. His smile was open and genuine, a few slightly crooked teeth offering a strange kind of friendliness to his appearance.

“Need a tow?”

* * *

The man introduced himself as soon as he stepped out of the truck, reaching out to grasp each of their hands in both of his. They were rough to the touch, with calluses on the tips and bases of the fingers.

“The name’s Jeremiah Green,” he said. “Just so pleased to meetcha.”

Circling around to the hood of the car, Jeremiah popped it open and began to inspect its contents. He had jumper cables in hand. “Hmm,” he would say to himself every once in a while. Then, “Mmhm. I see.”

“What’s the problem?” Bec said.

“Well,” Jeremiah said as he shut the hood with a definitive slam. “It’s going to take more than a couple hours here to fix.”

“Fuck,” Gerald swore under his breath.

Jeremiah shot an amused glance towards Gerald. “But luckily for all of you, I happen to be the mechanic for a local town, just ten miles down the road here,” he said. “I’d be happy to tow the car there for you and fix it, if you’d like.”

“Yes, please,” Fitzi said and nodded vigorously.

Jeremiah’s auto shop was little more than a single-car garage attached to a modest, slightly dumpy house. Granted, his house was also located in a town that, according to the sign they’d passed on the way in, boasted a population of less than 1,000 people.

“Yep, it’s a small one,” Jeremiah had said as they drove past the sign. “Everybody wants something bigger and better these days, so they just up and move to the cities all the time. Where are you all from?”

Bec chuckled. “We’re from the city, actually,” he said. “Boston.”

“Boston!” Jeremiah whistled. “Boy, that’s a long way to come. What are you doing all the way out here in Oklahoma?”

“We were headed to the Grand Canyon.”

Now, as Bec watched Jeremiah work on the car, he wondered how anyone could stand living in such a small place. But he did have to admit that there was a certain warmth about the little town, like how everyone stopped to say hello to one another and genuinely seemed to care when they asked, “How are you?”

Jeremiah worked meticulously and slowly. Beside him, Gerald watched and listened to his explanations of how the car operated and what all its parts did. Bec had never seen Gerald so interested in a subject before, and it made him smile just a little.

Bec and Fitzi sat on the wooden steps leading up to Jeremiah’s front door and turned to watch the cars amble on by. Bec had his chin propped up with his fist paired with a stoic expression, while Fitzi looked thoughtful.

“You don’t like being on Earth very much anymore do you, Bec?” she said.

“Not really,” Bec said with a sigh. “I mean, not since Janelle died. But I think…I think I’m learning to like it again. It felt good to get it all off my chest back there on the road.”

Fitzi nodded. “I think you needed it,” she said. “It’s funny. You know why I like living on Earth so much?”

“Why?”

“It’s like…” Fitzi looked up towards the clouds. It was a beautiful spring day, and the clouds were dotted across a clear blue sky. “Remember when everyone used to make fun of me when we were in training because I would mess the tiniest things up or get answers wrong? And because I was a little different? It’s not like that so much here. Humans like flaws. They accept them. Not everything has to be so perfect all the time.”

“Hm. I guess.”

“Okay, see that pothole on the road?” Fitzi pointed out a large pothole that sunk the asphalt on the road’s left side. “No one’s gonna fix that, at least not anytime soon. But all the cars just drive around it. They adapt. Just watch.”

Once Fitzi made him aware of it, Bec started to notice that cars would swerve ever so slightly so as to miss hitting the pothole.

“Huh,” he said. “I guess you’re right. I’ve never thought about things that way before.”

Fitzi clapped him on the shoulder. “Sometimes, you just need a change of perspective.”

The sun moved out from behind one of the clouds to cast rays of light directly on the two of them. Fitzi closed her eyes in contentment as she soaked up the sunlight.

“I haven’t seen you on your phone in a while,” Bec said. “Did something happen with your friends?”

“Nah. The signal’s bad out here.”

Bec laughed.

From behind the door, he suddenly heard a tapping sound, like little paws banging on the surface, followed by a high pitched whine. 

“Jeremiah? I think your dog or pet or…whatever wants to be let out,” Bec said.

Jeremiah wheeled out from underneath the car. “Oh, that’s probably my new puppy,” he said. “Found her on the side of the road the other day. Poor thing, she looked so lost I just had to take her in.” He walked up to the front stoop and stepped over Fitzi and Bec to turn the doorknob.

Almost immediately after opening the front door, a small, fluffy, white dog bolted out and hopped down the steps to sniff around the front lawn. She put her tail up in the air and wagged it a few times as she stuck her nose into the dirt.

Bec looked at Fitzi, who was already looking right back at him. “Is that…?”

“I think it’s…”

“Gabriel.” Gerald had come over to join them.

“Jeremiah,” Bec said. “You said you found this dog with no owner or collar or anything? Definitely a lost puppy?”

“Yessir,” Jeremiah said. He took off his cap to scratch his scalp briefly, then placed it back on his head. “Found her all by her lonesome.”

“I think she belongs to a good friend of ours,” Bec said, standing up from the step. He wiped his hands over the front of his jeans. “If you have a minute to spare, we need to explain some things to you. It’s time you learn who this dog really belongs to…and who we really are.”

* * *

“So let me make sure I got this all straight.” Jeremiah had his hands palm up on the round table in his little kitchen, fingers spread apart and reaching up. “You’re basically employees of…God?”

When Bec explained their real identities, Jeremiah had listened patiently, not saying a word until the very end. His eyes had widened at certain points, and he certainly looked overwhelmed, but he’d taken it all in until he had the chance to speak. That’s how Bec knew he’d made the right choice—the last human he’d confided in about his true nature was Janelle, and she’d reacted similarly. That’s how he knew he could trust the person to not do anything rash.

“Yes,” Bec said. “Well, we call him the Big Man. But yes, technically he is, as you humans refer to it, God. And we’re his missionaries to Earth, so to speak.”

Jeremiah blinked a few times, then crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Are you supposed to be telling me this?” He darted his gaze from Bec to Fitzi to Gerald and then back again.

“Not really,” Gerald said, “but we trust you.” He shot a glance towards Bec. “I think.”

“We do,” Bec said. “Also, we kind of need your dog.”

Underneath the table, Gabriel let out a bark and stuck her tongue out, panting and looking up in anticipation. Fitzi reached into the bag of dog treats open in the center of the table and tossed one towards the puppy, who chomped down on it. Jeremiah reached down and hoisted Gabriel up to face Bec.

“And you’re telling me,” he said, “that this…is God’s pet dog?”

“Yes.”

Jeremiah placed Gabriel in his lap and shook his head a few times. “Well, I guess I’ve seen stranger things in my day,” he said. “Just glad I could be of service to, you know.” He gestured up towards the ceiling.

“Right,” Bec said. “I’m sure the Big Man will be pretty pleased about the return of his favorite companion. They always say that dog is man’s best friend, but really, I think he might be God’s best friend too.”

Jeremiah chuckled. 

A breeze blew in from the open window, cooling Bec’s face. He felt quite cozy sitting in Jeremiah’s modest home. There was something about its minimal yet eclectic decorations that made him feel at home. The place felt lived in, with just the right amount of disarray to be comfortable.

“Boy, I sure didn’t expect this to happen today,” Jeremiah remarked. “But…it’s nice to have the company. Been a bit lonely around here since my daughter moved out.”

“What about your wife?” Fitzi asked, pointing to the ring on his left hand.

“Oh, this?” Jeremiah fiddled with the band and removed it. “She left me years ago, but I still keep the ring on. Reminds me of our good memories, even if it didn’t work out.”

“That’s sweet, I guess,” Gerald said, although he looked confused as to how Jeremiah could keep such strong ties to the past. In his frequent, drunken affairs with men, he was used to having casual flings with no strings attached.

“Listen,” Jeremiah said. “Would you three like to stay for a while?” He glanced out the window to where the sun was beginning to descend down the sky. “I know a real nice place to watch the sunset.”

Bec looked at Fitzi and Gerald, then shrugged and decided that the Upstairs could wait. They could go see the Big Man tomorrow. Right now, he knew it was more important to keep an old man company. It was just what good people did for one another.

“Sure, that sounds nice,” he said.

Jeremiah beamed and led them out the door and into town. The four of them (plus Gabriel, who padded alongside them) shuffled down the long road that stretched through a row of spread out houses until they reached the summit of a small, grassy hill—the first incline that Bec had seen since they'd first started passing through the midwest. 

“Just up here,” Jeremiah said.

They climbed to the top of the hill, which was eye level with the horizon and overlooking a neighboring town below. Jeremiah sat down on the grass and beckoned for the trio to join him. They obliged, arranging themselves in a row looking out towards the sunset.

“This is beautiful,” Fitzi said quietly, taking in the yellows, oranges, and pinks mingling together in a spectacular display. Bec nodded in agreement.

“One thing that never gets old,” Jeremiah said. “Beauty of a sunset.”

Bec reached to his side and patted Gabriel on the head. “You gave us quite a bit of trouble there, girl,” he said to the dog. “But we’re gonna take you home tomorrow.” He looked up at Jeremiah. “I can’t thank you enough for your help today.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said with a smile. “I’ll just thank whoever’s watching up there.”

Bec laughed. Fitzi placed her arms around both him and Gerald and squeezed them in towards her for a side hug.

As they watched the sun run its way down the Earth, Bec felt, for the first time since losing Janelle, that everything would be okay. He had Fitzi and he had Gerald. And most of all, thanks to Jeremiah, he had a renewed faith in humanity and the kindnesses that Earth was sometimes capable of offering.

Besides, he had the most exciting lesson plan to get to when he returned back to school. After all, who else was going to teach those tenth graders about the fall of the Roman Empire? No one better than someone who had been there himself.

Yes, everything was going to be alright—of this, Bec was sure. 

“Bring it on, Earth,” he whispered to the world in front of him. “I’m ready for you.”


End file.
